


The Holiday Bet

by multi_angxls



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Matt is a dumbass who can't form coherent sentences, Matt.exe has stopped functioning, Oneshot, Sylveride are literal siblings lmao, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:55:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multi_angxls/pseuds/multi_angxls
Summary: Sylvie loses a bet to Stella and, right on time for the holiday party at Molly's, has to dress up in a sexy Santa costume. Matt, obviously, loves the dress, and any sort of discretion or professionalism proceeds to immediately fly out the window.
Relationships: Brettsey - Relationship, Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	The Holiday Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, this is just me writing a oneshot because I'm in the holiday mood and because Brettsey done messed me up in 9x02. So here's some cute, slightly smutty, Christmas-themed Brettsey content for you, content that isn't angsty or sad, and has Brettsey as a pre-established couple LOL

There are two rules Sylvie knows when it comes to Stella Kidd. 

The first rule is never to touch the radio when she’s jamming out in the car. Like, seriously. Stella gets super into the zone when she plays her favourite rock songs and gets very finicky. The last time Sylvie tried to turn the volume down after Stella had blasted Duran Duran on a Monday morning, Stella nearly bit Sylvie’s hand off. Sylvie loves her best friend, but  _ man _ . Stella Kidd is one fierce defender when it comes to her music. 

The second rule is one Sylvie learns the hard way: never, and she means  _ never…  _ get into a bet with Stella Kidd. Especially during the holidays. 

Sylvie is restocking the ambo, Stella beside her, when she decides to bring up the bet. Mackey’s off on a mission to steal more red vines with Gallo and Ritter, so she and Stella are left alone at the ambo, conversing mindlessly. 

“Once again I successfully convinced Kelly to watch the Bachelor last night. It was  _ amazing _ , I cried twice,” Stella sighs. “Ugh, God. The couples on that show break my heart.”

Sylvie can’t help but laugh. Having seen a few episodes herself, she can’t imagine that watching The Bachelor is Severide’s idea of a good time. It’s hilarious thinking of him sitting at that TV in agony at the sappy, exaggerated emotions being portrayed on the screen. “I’m sure he loved that,” she replies. Her head is buried into the ambo, pulling supplies off the shelf and putting them back in after checking due dates. She’s so preoccupied with the task that she doesn’t realize Stella next to her, staring at something behind Sylvie. 

“Speaking of couples” Stella begins to say something but her voice trails off. Sylvie’s interest is piqued for a moment until she turns around and sees Stella staring at Matt, walking out of the turnout gear storage room. His clipboard is still in hand.  _ He must be doing an inventory check _ , she thinks. Sylvie smiles and bites her lip, knowing all too well what Stella’s about to say. “I think your Captain boyfriend over there is staring at you.” 

“Pfft,” she scoffs, “I don’t think so.” Sylvie’s tone comes out confident, but she doesn’t even think about looking to see if he’s staring at her. Their relationship, still very new and fresh, has forced them to make attempts at being discreet at work that have already come dangerously close to failing. The temptation to kiss him would be all too overwhelming if she glances over and sees that Stella’s right. So she doesn’t. 

“He is too! Don’t sell yourself short, girl, he’s been staring at you all day. He’s lucky to be dating you.” 

Sylvie laughs, accepts the compliment graciously. “I’d like to think we’re both lucky to be seeing each other, but thank you. And he’s  _ not _ staring at me! Besides, even if he was, I won’t indulge any of his longing stares,” she nods decidedly. 

“You know what I think? I think you like it,” she teases, poking at Sylvie’s side. 

Sylvie lets out a small snort. “Like what?” 

“I think you like it! I think you  _ love _ the idea of Matt Casey the lovesick puppy boyfriend, wandering around the firehouse thinking about you. Wanting you.” 

“Oh come on, that’s ridiculous!” Sylvie has to keep herself from wincing at how unbelievable her tone is. Her cheeks turn red and feel hot compared to the icy winter weather whirling around outside, the way they always do when she thinks of Matt, and she knows she’s busted. And like, ok. She doesn’t like making Matt miserable. That would be mean. But admittedly, she loves the looks he gives her when he thinks she isn’t watching. If they weren’t at work she would kiss him every time. They’ve only been dating for a month or now, and things are still in the new and exciting stage. “That’s not at all accurate.” 

“Oh  _ really _ ?” Stella shakes her head and scrunches her lips, clearly not buying it at all. “Those stares are purely professional then?” 

“Yes. Totally professional.”  _ Oh god,  _ she thinks. When did she get to be such a terrible liar? This hot and heavy phase in her relationship with Matt is driving Sylvie crazy in all the right ways, but it also makes her completely incapable of focusing. 

“So you guys are always professional at work.” 

“Exactly.”  _ Liar _ . 

“And you’re fine with that.”

“Yes.”  _ Liar. Again.  _

“I don’t buy it.” She shakes her head. “Kelly’s got his own quarters, I know what it’s like, having the temptation of yanking the blinds down and getting some privacy.” 

“I see what you’re trying to do,” Sylvie snickers, pointing an accusing finger at Stella. “And it’s not going to work. I am a rule follower, not a rule breaker. Contrary to your belief, Matt and I are completely capable of remaining discreet and impartial at work.” 

“So you’re telling me that if I shouted your name and made it seem like you were in danger, and he could hear it from the pile of broken turnout gear he’s made over there, that he  _ wouldn’t _ run over here in a heartbeat?” 

“Precisely,” she shrugs confidently. “He might be concerned, sure, but I bet you any money he would be no more or less concerned than if you were in danger.” 

“Okay you can’t just throw out the idea of a bet and expect me not to take that opportunity,” she says, visibly revelling in the idea of it.

Sylvie scrunches her nose, regretting her choice of words and where it’s starting to lead her. Ultimately though, she doesn’t have much to lose, so she accepts and hopes Stella doesn’t call her on her false sense of confidence. “Alright, you’re on. What does the loser have to do?” 

Stella taps her chin, devilishly thinking about all of the possibilities. “Winner’s choice.” 

Winner’s choice. It’s a wild card, a gamble that Sylvie thinks she knows better than to take, especially when it comes to someone as creative as her best friend. She’s so eager to prove Stella wrong though, so before her brain can catch up to her mouth, she responds. “Ok, fine. I accept. But if I’m right, you’re going to pay for this,” she teases. 

“And  _ when  _ I’m right, you’ll be doing the same,” Stella quips back. She turns around, eyes Casey for a bit before clearing her throat. “Oh my god, Brett,” she cries out, “are you alright?” 

Sylvie looks at her, bewildered. Stella’s voice comes out so exaggerated and dramatic that she is convinced that nobody will actually believe something is wrong and Stella will lose the bet. It’s almost comical, really. 

And then, just like that, she loses the bet as Casey rushes over. 

He really has no business being that worried about her. Matt Casey, ever the knight in shining armor. It makes her stomach twist into knots and heart flutters, and she just needs him to stop it. “Sylvie? Are you alright? What happened?” His brows are furrowed with concern as he looks Sylvie up and down, checking for injuries. Sylvie is staring at him in disbelief and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Stella watching the scene with a triumphant smirk.  _ Dammit _ . 

“I- I’m fine,” she stutters. “Stella just overreacted to, uh…” 

She’s too flustered to think of an excuse but thankfully, Stella jumps in to finish her sentence. “She just, uh, whacked her head on the rig. I thought it was worse than it actually was.”

“Oh, yikes,” he winces. “You sure you’re okay?” He puts a comforting hand on her shoulder and she smiles, gnawing at her bottom lip in an attempt to control herself. She could kiss him so easily right now, and God. She really wants to. 

“I hit my head too,” Stella lies, putting a hand to her head. “Ouch.” 

Matt hardly even glances her way, keeps his eyes focused on Sylvie as he replies, “Yeah, sorry about that.” Without even knowing it, he’s continuously proving Stella’s point. 

There’s an awkward silence and they keep staring at each other as Stella rolls her eyes and smirks knowingly at the two of them. Whatever momentary lapse in judgement they had then disappears, and Matt shifts nervously. Sylvie knows that look, knows he’s just itching to kiss her. It’s an itch that can wait until later to be scratched, though, and he clears his throat. “I, uh,” he continues, “I should probably get back to the turnout gear then.” 

“Yeah,” Sylvie nods, straightens her posture and shifts back into work mode. Internally, she’s screaming for him to stay, but the fact that she just lost the bet to Stella in a landslide sweep makes her a bit bitter, so she nods politely again as he leaves. Turning her attention back to the rig, supplies suddenly feel really interesting, her eyes fixated on the fine print on the labels. 

“I  _ so _ won,” Stella teases, her chest puffed with cockiness. “I definitely don’t look at my friends like that. Pay up, Brett.” 

“Ugh alright,” she groans. “What’s my punishment?” 

“Oh I have some ideas,” she hints playfully. Sylvie already doesn’t like the sound of this. 

“Oh god, it’s going to be awful isn’t it?” 

“Ah, you’ll be fine. Herrmann’s letting Kelly and invite everyone to Molly’s next week for a holiday shindig, since we can’t have anyone in our place. And I think,” she plays innocent as she explains, “that we should get you an extra festive outfit for this year.”

“If you’re thinking about an ugly Christmas sweater than I have plenty of those I could wear, unfortunately,” she sighs, 

“No no,” she giggles. “I was thinking more along the lines of Mrs. Claus.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Oh yeah,” she nods devilishly. “Sexy. Santa. I’m sure it would attract some of the festive customers.” 

Sylvie immediately begins to protest. “No. No no no, not happening. I’ve seen you in that costume. It’s not happening. No way.” 

“Oh come on,” Stella pleads, “you agreed to this. Winner’s choice, that means you can’t chicken out.” 

“I’m not chickening out. All I’m saying is, now that we have to gather at Molly’s patio because of this virus, that I’m going to be the one freezing my ass off in the cold Chicago weather and you’ll be the one laughing at my misery.” 

“I mean, that is kind of the point of a bet,” she remarks. “Look, I’ll make an announcement in front of everyone saying you lost a bet, they’ll cheer, you’ll twirl, ask if they’ve been naughty or nice. And then you can put your coat back on. No biggie!” 

Sylvie hesitates for a minute, but decides that her idea isn’t so bad and accepts. “Fine, I’ll do it.” 

“Yes! Alright, I’ll come by your apartment tomorrow and we’ll see if it fits. This is going to be hilarious,” she chuckles victoriously. 

“I can’t believe this,” Sylvie sighs, exasperated. 

Rule number two of being friends with Stella Kidd: never enter a bet with her. 

+++++   
  


The week goes by quickly. Stella brings her costume over for Sylvie to try on the next day and Sylvie stares at herself in the mirror as Stella laughs and laughs. “Casey’s going to love this,” she had laughed. “That man ogles you on the daily already, this might just kill him.” 

“Oh shush,” she dismissed the idea, “he is not going to be ogling me.” 

“We’ll see about that,” is all that Stella had replied. Now, a week later, Sylvie glares at the dress through her mirror, turning from side to side for the full view. The party starts in an hour and she can’t stop staring at it. 

The dress is definitely not made for harsh winters, to say the least. The thin straps and rim of the dress are both made with some white, fluffy material, and the velvety red fabric is not very warm. There’s a decorative black belt in the center, and the neckline is, well… dangerously low. The worst part is the massive Santa hat that comes with it. It’s too big for her head and she keeps having to pull it back out of her eyes, the white ball at the tip bobbing around near her face. She groans in frustration knowing she has no one else to blame but her for getting into this situation, but sucks it up and worms her way into it. The hem of the dress just barely passes her thighs, and so she wears long, knee high black boots to make up for the excessive amount of skin shown. They end up actually going really nicely with the outfit, no matter how ridiculous it is. She leaves her hair untied and unstraightened, grabs her longest, warmest coat and covers up as much as she can. Yanking the tacky Santa hat onto her head, she rushes out the door, eager to get this whole embarrassing ordeal over with. 

She makes her way to Molly’s Patio. Matt had agreed to meet her there, oblivious to the shitshow about to go down. She had managed to keep the bet a secret, which was the second part of her agreement with Stella. Sylvie, still in denial about even having to wear this ridiculous thing in the first place, hadn’t protested to that. When she gets there, the big string lights above the tables and around the fences twinkle, giving a dim glow to the whole patio of tables. She makes her way inside, heading straight for the bar. There’s no chance in hell she’s doing this without a drink or two. 

“Somebody’s looking festive,” Herrmann chirps, slinging a tea towel over his shoulder. “Nice hat.” 

“Thanks,” she replies through pursed lips, pulling the oversized santa hat back up to her forehead. Her jacket is still on and buttoned all the way up, so the whole outfit isn’t visible yet, but she can tell it’s going to be bad. Everyone from the firehouse is here. 

“She does look pretty great, doesn’t she Herrmann? Just wait until you see the whole outfit,” Stella explains, suddenly appearing from the bar entrance. 

“You are a  _ terrible _ winner, Stella Kidd,” she giggles. “I’m already freezing by the way. We better get this thing over with soon.” 

“Hey, it’s just like that saying: patience is a virtue.” 

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” she sighs, turning to Herrmann. “Can I have a rosé please?” 

“Sure thing, kid.” He nods and leaves for the storage room at the back of the bar, leaving Stella and Sylvie alone. 

“Where are the guys?” 

“Ah, they’re trying to find a parking spot on the side of the road. They’ll be walking through that door any minute. Or- I guess- now,” Stella corrects herself almost immediately. Sylvie’s eyes follow her gaze to see her Severide and Matt walking through the door.

“Hey there pretty lady,” Severide smiles, kisses Stella on the cheek, then turns to Sylvie and teasingly quips, “and Brett.” 

“Charming,” she retorts, scrunching her nose and squinting at him. 

“He always is,” Matt jokes, putting a hand on the small of her back and pulling her in for a tender kiss. “Hey.” When he pulls away, his voice is low and raspy, still breathing heavily from the kiss. 

“Hi.” She can feel a giddy smile plastered on her face. God, she must look like an idiot. Her hands rest on Matt’s chest and his hands remain planted on her hips as she turns to Severide. “Your girlfriend is ruthless by the way, Severide.” 

“Oh I know,” he smirks, and Stella laughs as he pulls her in even closer by his side. Clearly, it’s something he loves about her. “What’d she do this time? Should we even bother asking?” 

“You won’t have to, actually,” Stella explains. “You’ll be able to see it for yourself. See, Brett here lost a bet to me—”

“Ah, never get in a bet with this one, first mistake right there,” Severide nods, all too familiar with the experience. 

“— Exactly. And, in the spirit of Christmas and giving, my prize will be shared with everyone else. You’ll all get to see Brett in the outfit I chose as punishment.” 

“Is that why you’re still wearing your coat?” Matt asks. 

“Yep. Ugh,” she groans. Herrmann comes over at that moment, ready with her rosé, so she leaves Matt’s grip to get her drink. He gives her a concerned look as he watches her take a massive gulp. 

“You good?” 

“Oh yeah,” she nods, breathing heavily from swallowing so much rosé at once. “I’m just going to need a little bit of liquid courage to get through this.” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Severide remarks. 

“Oh it  _ is _ that bad,” she replies dramatically. “It’s awful. Dehumanizing. Demoralizing.” Ok. Maybe she’s exaggerating a bit. Whatever. As long as Stella’s around, she’ll try and send her on a guilt trip as much as she can. 

“Aww,” Severide mockingly pouts at her. She punches him on the shoulder, which only makes him laugh even harder. “Matt, your girlfriend’s going feral on me.” 

“Hey, you got yourself into this, man,” he laughs. Sylvie’s chest swells with pride, jokingly lifting her nose at Severide. “So what exactly was this best?” 

“Uh… not important,” Sylvie shrugs. 

“Ah, so it was about Matt then,” Kelly nods understandingly. 

“Hey!” Matt protests, but looks at Sylvie and she gives him a look which stops his protests. “It was?” 

“She sort of bet me that you would come running if I pretended something was wrong,” she explains, trying to hold back a laugh and failing miserably. 

“Well excuse me for trying to be, you know, supportive.”

“No, I love how supportive you are! I would wear a million of these stupid costumes for you, babe. It’s totally worth it.”

“Mmm, ok,” he caves, humming his words in her mouth as she kisses him. 

“Alright, I think it’s time they all see the outfit.” Stella claps her hands together and Sylvie takes one last sip of rosé before preparing for what’s about to happen. 

“Ok. But for the record, I’m totally against this,” she laughs nervously at the two guys, unbuttoning her jacket slowly and peeling it off to reveal the ridiculous, low-cut Santa dress. 

Sylvie doesn’t think she’s ever seen Matt’s eyes go so wide so quickly. 

Severide snorts loudly and Sylvie sneers at him. “Zip it, dummy.” 

Matt’s still staring at her, his cheeks flushed and his jaw practically on the floor. It’s a short, tight-fitting dress that admittedly shows a fair amount of cleavage, and that she likes to think she looks great in. Except for the fact that it’s a sexy Santa costume, and she looks like she should be working at a mall trying to get middle-aged dads to buy their children a picture with Santa Claus. Any sensation of ridicule or embarrassment flies out the door when she sees the look in Matt’s eyes though. He’s looking at her with that same hunger and intensity that he does when he wants to kiss her. She and Matt are usually soft and sweet, but this side of their relationship is new and just. It does things to her. “What do you think?” Her voice is coming out all breathy and silky and coy. She kind of hates it. This is supposed to be embarrassing for very different reasons, not any of which are related to the things she wants to do with her boyfriend right now and the way he’s looking her up and down. She’s all for confidence from within, but that look he’s giving her definitely helps.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. “I think he’s trying to say you look good,” Severide jokes, snapping his fingers in front of Matt’s face to make sure he’s not zoned out. 

“Yo-you… you look… I mean it’s… red,” Matt stutters. 

“Good observation there, Captain,” Stella nods, doing a fake salute. His cheeks turn pink and Severide pats him on the back understandingly. “Alright, follow me, boys. We have to show off my victory,” Stella laughs. 

They make their way back out to the patio and Sylvie catches Severide mumbling to Matt, “Stop drooling all over your girlfriend, man.” Matt blinks, his body hardly catching up with his brain. Kelly grabs a beer with one hand and uses the other to shove Matt along, nudging him forward like he’s forgotten how to walk. Sylvie suddenly feels really nervous around Matt in her dress. Not only is she going to be the joke of the night for being the only one in a costume, but she’s going to have to control the urge she has to kiss him every time he stares at her. That alone is worse than any punishment Stella could think of. 

Matt and Kelly sit down at the table closest to them, and Sylvie is dragged to the front by Stella. The empty space they’re standing in now acts as their sort of stage, and Stella starts calling out to get everybody’s attention. “Excuse me, hey, hi. Listen up everybody.” Sylvie watches as her friends turn around in their seats to face them. Matt, Kelly, Joe, Capp, Gallo, Herrmann, Gianna. Their eyes are all fixed on them now, looking at the ridiculous outfit she has on. “Brett here,” Stella continues, “lost a bet to me. And being the gracious loser that she is, she has decided to share my prize with you. So everyone, give a round of applause for Mrs. Claus!” 

Sylvie watches nervously as people applaud her, whistling and laughing cheerfully. She knows everyone there so it’s not that big of a deal, but she still feels self-conscious. It’s cold, and her dress is more than a little revealing, and everyone is there. She musters up her confidence, though, and does a twirl, giggling along with everyone as they cheer. She’s not going to lie… it feels kind of good. Weirdly, it gives her confidence, being able to strut around jokingly, completely carefree. She brushes a bit of snow off the hem of her dress and stands tall, prepared to be Stella Kidd’s most gracious competitor ever. “Alright, Mrs. Claus is officially taking Christmas lists. And not just because she hasn’t gotten all her holiday shopping yet. So come on up, I guess,” she laughs. It’s not totally a lie. She really does need some gift ideas for everyone at the firehouse, despite Matt’s previous protests that not everyone needed a present. Her friends all line up in front of her, slightly tipsy as they make their way up to the front and tell her what they want for Christmas. They keep up with the gimmick, saying whatever gifts are fair game for her to buy for them. Gianna’s too sweet to ask for anything from her mentor, but Gallo asks for Red Vines and women’s track pants and Sylvie doesn’t think they’re meant for him at all. Capp jokingly asks for twenty years of his life back, Joe asks for more quality time with her (to which she smiles and guarantees he’ll get what he wants), and Severide asks to know where to find the fancy cigars Matt manages to buy on his own. It’s sort of hilarious, really, how Stella hands her one of the order pads from the bar and she just starts writing everything down. It’s fun, and even though it’s freezing outside and she can see her breath every time she exhales, it reminds her of why these people are her family. 

Eventually, she gets through everyone and they ease their way back to their spots, going back to whatever conversations had been happening before. Sylvie looks around the patio, watching the scene of everyone smiling and laughing at their tables. Matt is still sitting at the table he was before, staring at her intently. She had seen him eyeing her as she had worked her way through everyone, walking around confidently, had felt his eyes burning the back of her neck. He hadn’t come up though, just sat there ogling her just like Stella had predicted he would. And if she’s being honest, she loves it. She never wants that wild, intense look in his eyes to burn out. It’s exhilarating. 

His back is facing everyone at the table, his legs turned towards her. She walks over coyly and ends up standing right against him, one of his legs in between hers. He keeps his eyes on hers as she pulls the oversized hat off of her head and ruffles her hair, letting the slightly wavy locks tickle her shoulders. The hat ends up fitting Matt’s head perfectly as she gently tugs it onto his head, rubbing her thumb against his cheek lovingly. “Hi.” She feels the same giddy smile pulling at her cheeks. 

He swallows hard as he looks up at her from his spot. “Hey.” 

“You never told me what you wanted,” Sylvie pouts. “Come on. What’s on your list?”

  
“Oh, nothing. I already have everything I need right here,” he responds sweetly. Her heart skips a beat and her throat closes up. She doesn’t think there will ever be a time where Matt Casey doesn’t have just the right thing to say. 

Sylvie bends over and kisses his cheek, slowly and gently, then stands back up and sighs. “A perfect answer. And you’re my last client, which means I’m done with this stupid bet stuff now,” she giggles. “How’d I do?” 

“Good,” he replies. Sylvie knows he really means it but she can also tell he’s holding something back though, so she tilts her head and furrows her brows. 

  
“Just good? No outstanding praise?” 

Her question is meant to be rhetorical, but he replies with a question of his own. “You were amazing. But honestly?”  _ Oh God, _ she thinks.  _ He hates it, doesn’t he?  _ She nods at him, urges him to speak up. All he does is stand up, his hands moving to her hips, and leans in to whisper in her ear, “I think you’re killing me in that dress.” His cheek brushes against hers. His voice is low and it sends shivers down the back of her neck. Sylvie shivers under his embrace, unsure of whether it’s because of the goosebumps or just because of the cold. Damn Matt Casey, pushing all the right buttons. 

He pulls her in even closer, his hand wrapping around to the small of her back and his lips pushing into hers slowly, his mouth starved for hers. It’s crazy how far they’ve come, she thinks. They’ve stopped dancing around each other like they had been before they were dating and, well. It’s everything she could have asked for. Her lips are drowning in his, and it’s hot and messy and heavy. It’s perfect. Of course, she could do without the majority of her colleagues staring, but he tugs on her bottom lip as he pulls away and all of her thoughts just fly out of her head. Completely forgets about everyone else on the patio. That is, until Sylvie gets the blaring wakeup call from Severide. “Get a room, you two,” he mutters from the other side of the table. 

She lets out a breathy laugh, looking down at her boots. “I  _ am  _ sort of freezing in this dress,” she confesses coyly to Matt, playing with the hem of her dress and hoping he’ll pick up on her insinuation. “It’s getting pretty cold out here.” 

“I’ll get you your jacket,” he smiles at her, his thumbs rubbing playfully at her sides. His mood changes slightly when she says it, and she notices the wild look in his eyes starts to turn soft and sympathetic. 

She realizes that he still doesn’t get what she’s trying to say, so she keeps going, making sure that Severide doesn’t hear this time. “I think it’s better if we just go back to my place. I mean, if I’m cold in this dress then you should probably just rip this thing right off.” She has no idea where all of this confidence is coming from, but apparently, the dress just makes it ooze out of her. Just to make sure though, she gives him a hopeful, longing look. “Right?” 

He looks surprised at first, but his eyes slowly get that wild, intense look back and she knows Matt likes the idea almost more than she does. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he grins mischievously. She turns around and grabs him by the hand, dragging him not-so-subtly off of the patio and away to the street of parked cars. Stella watches them from the bar as they dash off, Matt placing quick kisses on Sylvie’s shoulders and laughs. 

“Professional and discreet my ass,” Stella chuckles. “Merry Christmas, you two!” She calls out to them as they stumble out of the door, oblivious to her cheers. 

They don’t waste any time getting back to her apartment, and Matt quite literally rips the dress off of her, leaving a tear in the back. She laughs, figures that it's plenty of payback for Stella making her wear it. But Matt swipes his tongue into the inside of her cheek, lifts her up by her thighs as they crash onto the bed and moves his lips down to her chest, and she thinks maybe she should be thanking Stella. That dress is tacky, but it worked its wonders in mysterious ways. Finally, she lets her mind go blank, erasing all thoughts of the bet or the dress, and now all she can think of is Matt, and how good it feels having him pressed up against her, their hips starting to rock back and forth. It’s a bliss she doesn’t ever want to stop feeling, the pure happiness she feels when she’s with him. 

Sylvie comes to work the next morning with hickeys all over her neck and shoulders, and decides that letting Stella Kidd be right once and a while isn’t so bad. 


End file.
